


say it isn't so

by bickz



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Falling In Love, Implied Sexual Content, Morning After, Mutual Pining, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:42:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22383508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bickz/pseuds/bickz
Summary: It's not lo-- Yennefer can't even think of the word without feeling ill.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 5
Kudos: 94





	say it isn't so

**Author's Note:**

  * For [matelotage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/matelotage/gifts).



> GOD ive wanted to write something for these two for years now. i love yen and geralt so much. TT A TT
> 
> anyways, this is just a little piece from a prompt i got over on [twitter](https://twitter.com/bickzyy/status/1217591775281455105?s=20)

Their fates are tied, that is for certain. And Yennefer would rather forfeit her magic than even consider that whatever swirls between them is somehow not a direct consequence of the Witcher’s damned Third Wish.

But yet again, here she finds herself, completely naked in bed with  _ him _ . She’s staring at him, watching the gentle rise and fall of his perfectly sculpted, scarred chest -- a terribly beautiful autobiography of decades of monster-hunting -- while he sleeps in. They endured a gruesome battle yesterday, Geralt having enlisted Yennefer’s help with a particularly cunning higher vampire that was terrorising a desolate village. Yen argued that she couldn’t be bothered with such useless peasants, there was no way they could muster enough coin to pay for both of their services, but Geralt promised her the entire bounty for her aid. When she scoffed and tried to call his bluff, the Witcher was insistent.

Why would he do that? Yen knows that the cost of ingredients to make even one dose of Black Blood is more than the villagers were able to pay. So, is this another symptom of their magical ailment? No sane Witcher would forfeit his reward -- no, his source of income,  _ his livelihood _ , just to have a sorceress’s assistance. Yen just can’t make any sense of it. 

Just like she can’t make sense of the bittersweet warmth that spreads in her chest as she watches over Geralt’s sleeping form. Her gaze trails leisurely up from the fresh wound on his shoulder, over his neck and the fully-grown beard obscuring his handsome jaw (she’s told him time and time again how she  _ despises _ that beard), up to his lips, now dry and chapped after their late-night adventures. She can’t help smiling, thinking about just how skilled that mouth of his is, not only at persuading her to spend the night with him while he’s soaked in blood and carrying a decapitated vampire head, but also in the way that he uses his tongue to coax her to completion over and over again. Yennefer sighs, a residual heat settling low in her belly at the thought alone, and she has to resist the urge to shake him awake this instant and demand  _ more _ .

No, instead, Yen leans over Geralt’s peacefully sleeping form, reaches a hand up to push a stray hair from his rugged face before letting her fingers gently caress his cheek, down to the offensive bit of fuzz on his jaw that she absolutely cannot admit is beginning to grow on her. If she were a romantic sort, she might say that his face seemed to soften under her touch, but that couldn’t be so -- he must just be having a nice dream. Without thinking, Yennefer closes the distance between them to place a ghost of a kiss on Geralt’s forehead. She inhales deeply, letting his unique scent of musk and sandalwood fill her senses, never wanting to forget that intoxicating aroma. Why? She’s not sure. But the aching that constricts her heart and lungs demands more of his scent, more of his warmth, and not the kind that’s easy to come by. She needs this calm, tranquil moment like she needs to breathe, and she’ll be damned before admitting that it’s not just a side effect for fucking with that djinn.

When Yen does finally pull back, two catlike eyes are watching her intently, something one might call adoration making them shine like honey in the late morning sun drizzling in through the curtains. “G’morning, gorgeous,” Geralt whispers.


End file.
